The Girl in the Window

The next day of school reminded me that that day was basketball tryouts. After smacking the snooze on my alarm, the first thing that came to my mind was Darnell. Then I shook that thought. It wasn’t hard to tell that Sasha was a jealous and possibly possessive person. The last thing she would want is for me to be thinking about Darnell. But over the year, I tried to forget about Darnell. But somehow my conversation with Wanya had me on a train of thought that went under that previously closed tunnel of my past with Darnell. I closed it because of fear. The thing about Darnell is that on the outside, he’d come off like an ordinary nigga that attractive girls could easily get in bed. But the Darnell I saw as a different Darnell. He gave me a taste of Darnell that touched me in places where I wasn’t prepared to be touched. It was the Darnell that Sasha fell in love with. The Darnell that I feared. But there was no Darnell for me. I wanted him for selfish reasons, ones that he wasn’t willing to give.

I got ready for school and put together my basketball things for tryouts. My nerves started to hit me, and they had nothing to do with tryouts. I was very confident about tryouts. It was facing Darnell again. It had been days since Sasha showed up to school, so I knew nothing about Darnell’s plans. Maybe he wouldn’t tryout. I hoped he didn’t.

Miraculously, my mama made me breakfast. It had been a while since she made me breakfast. And it wasn’t something disgusting either like plain oatmeal and a fruit bar. She made scrambled eggs and pancakes. She even took the time to make her homemade caramel that I loved. When I got to the kitchen, I looked at her like I was witnessing a miracle. She glanced at me then looked back at the pan. Then she took a double take.

“Look, don’t say nothin’. Just hurry an’ eat.” I smirked and sat at the table. I ate hastily because I was running a little late.

“Ay ma,” I said, my mouth slightly full. “I need you to pick me up from school around five thirty.”

“What for?”

“I got basketball tryouts.”

“Damn Shade, do you ever tell me anything? Do you even have a physical?”

“Yeah, took care of dat already. You gon’ pick me up?”

“I guess I gotta.” I stood up and walked towards the door.

“Okay bye. I love you.” Then I closed the door behind me.

When I got to school and sat with Amara, I felt the need to tell her about Wanya. Surely she’d think I was a ho then, I thought.

“Hey Shade, how are you?” I smiled, then looked down.

“I’m okay. What about you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Cool. I have basketball tryouts today.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you played. Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m straight.” We were silent for a while. I wanted to tell her about Wanya.

“‘Member how Wanya came yesterday?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well… he saw me again after I came from you house and… we had sex in my backyard. But for some reason, I didn’t feel bad after we had sex.”

“Why do you think, is it because you actually do like him?”

“No. But he does like me. Anyway, I think it’s because I learned to appreciate sex more, ya’know? To cherish the feeling and not toss it around so much.”

“Well that’s really good. But why did you toss it around so much?” I sighed, looking down. “Okay, I understand. Maybe later, or some other time?”

“Maybe. But anyway, now I might wait longer ‘cause then maybe the feeling will be better because it was really good yesterday.”

“Yeah, that would do you some good. I know that if I had sex, it would feel like magic because I have not had any in a long time.” I smiled thinking that if she had sex with me, I’d make it feel like heaven. But I quickly escaped the thought.

“You know, I’m happy you’re more sympathetic, and not judgmental. I wish more people were like that. You make it easy for me to talk to you.” She smiled.

“Only you can tell your story best. Allah is the only judger.”

“Damn, you almost always know what to say.”

Finally Sasha showed her existence in class. She didn’t come in as late as she usually did and I was very happy to see her. It was like her break off had her looking more attractive. I guess school could drain the beauty out of anyone.

“Where you been at Sasha? I miss you.”

“Aw, do you mean it or are you jus’ bullshitting?”

“I mean it. It’s boring in this class without you.”

“Why you ain’t pay me a visit?”

“‘Cause… honestly I been hangin’ wit’ Amara at her house.”

“Oh so now she stealin’ my friend?” she said it sarcastically but I knew there was some seriousness to it.

“No Sasha. But I need a close friend too. Ain’t had a real friend in a long time.”

“I can be yo’ close friends too.”

“Come on Sasha, you know it don’t work like that. Besides, Amara is nice, I like her a lot.”

“Okay, okay, let me not be selfish. She is nice. I’m happy you consider her your close friend. I know you have yo’ issues an’ you need someone to help you wit’ em an’ I can’t always be dere for you. But know dat you my second closets friend.” I smiled.

“You are too. So where you been?”

“Oh, you know my ex who I fought? Well, I got caught fo’ it an’ we got suspended. You was so right, it was stupid. But I wouldn’t take it back.”

“Hmp, well, whatever works better for you.”

“Well, enough of dat bitch. Thinkin’ bout her gimme a headache. So about Amara, she go both ways?”

“Nah. She all straight from what I can see.”

“Damn well, guess I gotta move on. Been single for too long now an’ since you don’t wanna cooperate, I’ma have to start looking around.” She smiled. “Got somebody in mind though. She one of dem long term girls. Das what I’m looking for right now ‘cause when a gay bitch get horny, it ain’t easy findin’ some ass,” she said quietly, although most of the class was loud. I chuckled.

“You right.” We were silent for a while.

“You know, I was thinkin’ ‘bout you still when I was gone. Like, every time Darnell come home I couldn’t help but think about you… you know. Den I thought of when you tol’ me you ain’t know the number. Do you still not know?”

“Actually, me and Amara talked about that one day. It’s been nineteen, not counting the girls. Counting them, it’s been twenty two,” I said as quietly as possible.

“Oh okay, that’s not as bad as I thought.”

“But it’s still bad.”

“I know, but I was expecting much worse because Darnell’s number is worse.”

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yeah. Nothing sex related is special when it comes to Darnell, unless he stick wit’ you fo’ a long time. Da best part of Darnell is what’s on da inside.”

“Sounds like how it’s ‘sposed to be.”

“But Darnell can be an asshole sometimes. One time he said I was shallow and dat made me feel horrible. He can get really mean when he’s mad. He called me air headed another time. But I guess it was more my fault ‘cause I blamed him for his parents’ problems. I was really wrong for that and I’m surprised he didn’t call me somethin’ worse. But I owe it to Darnell ‘cause some niggas out of school used to try to do some fucked up shit to me. An’ most times when I was treated like shit ‘cause I’m gay, he stood up for me and made me feel better about myself. And Darnell, if he cares, will listen to all of your problems and even try to fix them. Most times I don’t listen, but he’s usually right. He’s real wise and real smart. If he were a girl I’d marry him, but he look too much like a nigga. I don’t know. I know I’ma have to let ‘im go to some girl but I’m scared that I will try to get too much in da way. I mean, Darnell is a really good guy, I mean, he’s really special. Most times he’s nice but he ain’t about no bullshit. He be honest wit’ you all da way through. I love him I do, but he ain’t da right gender, an’ I ain’t da right girl.” That was the Darnell that Sasha fell in love with and the Darnell that I feared.

It was safe to say that Monroe had given up on Molly and possibly befriending white people in general. Now of course he wasn’t stupid enough to let go of some of his genuine white friends that he had, but he was more open to the idea of racism and making black friends. That day he seemed to take more interest in what I was doing than anything else. There was a question or confession burning in his eyes. I was ready for it because for some reason, I knew it was regarding Molly. The anger was written on his face.

“You know what dat bitch said to me?” He finally blurted out. His talking took a huge turn. Before, he had an almost white boy tone to him, but that time, his words came out a little more black. “Bitch talkin’ ‘bout I’m cool as a friend, but she’d never date a black guy ‘cause all dey think about is sex, getting’ some white girl to get some head from and steal shit. Den she laughed like I was supposed to laugh at dat bullshit.” He was speaking loud, not caring who heard him. Molly’s eyes were glued to Monroe. “But ya’know something? Ha ha, the fucking jokes on me. I’m the dumb ass who actually laughed at dat stereotypical bullshit before when we were friends my wanna be white ass ate dat shit up, now I’m getting fucked sideways. Den I had da biggest epiphany da other day in my entire life. My white cracker friends ain’t no better dan dat bitch except for Matthew, and I was livin’ a lie my whole life. My parents make white people seem like dey the best people ever. Dey ain’t nothing near dat! Matta fact, ereybody fucked up. Black people fucked up, white people fucked up, Hispanics fucked up and Asians fucked up.” Our teacher simply ignored the drama going down while everyone else watched. She was never the type to break up tension. She’d let it die down unless it was physical. Everyone’s attention was on Monroe and Molly. They were feeding off of the drama, wanting more.

“Stop lyin’ Monroe,” Molly said, slightly afraid. If the whole school knew she was racist, she felt some hell coming.

“Oh shut up bitch, ain’t nobody lying,” Monroe said, still looking at me. “But you Shade, you ain’t fucked up. You got some since that my no sense ass had and I want to thank you,” he took my hand and began shaking it, “for putting some sense into my black ass, emphasis on the black.” Then he got up and left the classroom. All eyes were on Molly. I smirked.

“Damn Molly, you a racist,” someone said. “You know dat boy liked you.”

“Yeah, you wrong fo’ dat.”

“Well, you might have knocked da black outa him, but you sho’ did knock it back in.” People laughed at the petty joke and went back to work or continued to gossip, now about Molly. She deserved every ounce of that negative attention.

It took a good ten minutes of cooling down for Monroe to come back into the classroom. He became a celebrity within minutes but his eyes were stuck on his seat. Apparently he must have been really upset because he looked just as upset as he did when he left. His behind hammered in the chair then he leaned back, hands on the rainbow gum filled desk. His gaze slightly shifted to Molly, rage in his eyes, and then he looked at me. He leaned forward.

“I don’t know what to do Shade,” he said quietly. “Never in my life have I felt so… betrayed and used.” He closed his eyes then leaned back again. When he spoke on being betrayed and used, it sent me back down memory lane. I had felt the same before but the cut was deeper.

“Then you feel so lost afterwards,” I said. His eyes opened. “Then you questioned if they ever even cared in the first place.”

“Yeah… you been fucked over like that by a white person before too?”

“Ha, nah. I might have felt a little better if it was.” He looked at me with sympathy but didn’t ask for details. That was a good thing.

Amara and Sasha went on talking about their days and whatnot. I wasn’t really focused on their conversation because any time I thought of Sasha at that time, I thought of Darnell. Then my song I started the night before come to mind. Not a day went by when I didn’t have a notepad and a pen on me. It was in case inspiration struck. I took it out and started jotting down lines.



I stared at what I wrote. It was rough, but it spoke truths to me.



I couldn’t believe what I had wrote at the moment. I wanted to rip the page in a thousand pieces and throw it away, but at the same time, I felt I needed to feel better about myself. It was my confession. I hardly made confessions.

“Shade, what’s that face for?” Sasha asked. I looked at her then looked at Amara. They were both looking at me. I had no idea of the expression on my face.

“Just reminiscing,” I said. “What ya’ll talkin’ ‘bout?” I tried to take the focus off of me.

“Nothin’ really. Life I guess. You still tryin’ out for basketball?” Sasha asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Jus’ wonderin’. So is Darnell. He prolly gonna automatically make da team. He was on varsity las’ year. He ain’t play too much but das ‘cause a lot of good people were on but dey graduated now.” I smirked. How was I going to face Darnell? I thought. Just ignore him. Amara had a small smile on her face, but it looked sweet.

“Maybe I should do something. I will get bored at home,” Amara said.

“You play ball?” I asked. She laughed.

“No, no, no. I barely know what a basketball looks like. I play soccer though.” I didn’t care about soccer.

“You run track?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, I can do that.” Hell yes, I thought.

“Cool. You should tryout.”

“Why are you going to?” asked Sasha.

“Yeah.”

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout it but since ya’ll doin’ it, I prolly will.” Even better. “Uh… Darnell—”

“Fuck, he does everything,” I blurted. They laughed.

“Don’t worry so much ‘bout it. He don’t worry.” Sasha said. I shrugged my shoulders as they went on talking, I squeezed my notepad in my hand.

In a life full of temptation, it’s hard to find the way.

In art class most of us had finished our water colors including myself and Amaya. Amaya occupied herself by looking through magazines such as Vogue or Seventeen while I wrote random lines regarding love.



“Shade?” Amaya asked.

“What Amaya?” She knew I hated it when she interrupted me when I was writing but she did it anyway.

“You think she’s pretty?” She pointed to a girl in the Vogue magazine. Her face had little contrast and was really white, almost inhumane. But her lips looked wet and slightly parted like she was picked up from a strip joint and was told to look sexy. Her eyes bluer than the shallow water of beaches and hair almost matching her skin. Her face was so slim and sucked in it was obvious she hand developed the habit of fasting (starving) before a photo shoot.

“No,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because she looks too promiscuous.”

“But a lot of girls are easy, what’s wrong with her being honest about it?”

“It’s the easy part. Most people don’t respect easy people.”

“Okay.” She kept flipping through the pages.



I almost erased that line, but I knew it was best to keep it.



“What about her?”

“Dammit Amaya.” I looked at the picture. That time the girl had the twilight sun gleaming from behind her, making her strawberry blond hair look like fresh copper in the sun. The sun’s rays helped her skin to look golden and the light lacking on her face made her eyes look deep sea blue. Like the deepest in the ocean light could reach. Yet her cheeks were sucked in, her lips wet and coral red. Her eyes lifeless. She didn’t look real.

“No, not at all.”

“Do you like any of them?”

“Not those two. Imagine, how many dicks she prolly had to fuck and suck to be in dere.” Her eyes widened with shock.

“Why do you think everyone has to do that?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“Look at her lips and eyes. It’s like she’s getting ready to fuck some clothes designer or something right after and she knows it. I see it in her eyes.” She looked at the picture again to see what I saw.

“Well I need someone to paint for the next project.” She turned the page. I looked at my note pad having lost too much concentration to think of anything to write.

“How ‘bout her?” Again, it was a girl in need of sun and life. Possibly some fat would help. She was lavender blonde with pale gray eyes, kind of like my grey eye. Her hair was in a weird umbrella shape. Lips dry that time, parted, ready to take anything in.

“What kind of magazine is this?”

“Uh, Vogue. It’s fashion.”

“All the models look the same but their hair and eye color. And the fashion is dead or unrealistic.”

“It’s beautiful! Hello, Vogue.”

“Hello, not givin’ a fuck.” I snatched both magazines and tossed them on the floor. She looked offended.

“I need a picture Shade!” she exclaimed.

“Draw someone that looks real. Not those Barbie whores.”

“They’re not whores! They’re iconic.”

“No, fuck that. They probably live miserable lives with eating disorders. This is real life. Draw yourself.”

“No-o. I’m definitely not pretty enough. Can I draw you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please?” Then she smiled. She looked like a baby Bratz doll. Just brand new out of the box, making you want to stare at it for a while before you put it away for another day of admiring.

“Whatever. But if it doesn’t look exactly like me, you’re doing it over.” She closed her hands with glee again, like my sister when she got her favorite candy.

“It will look exactly like you, I promise.”

“You’re not ugly by the way,” I added. She looked away and didn’t respond. I could only wonder what could possess her to think she was unattractive. But like I said, some people were just ridden with issues.

Walking down the hallway to the gym was gut retching. I couldn’t believe I was so nervous about it. I thought perhaps it was something in my subconscious mind. It had to have been what I knew to be true but couldn’t admit. But if there was one thing I knew about Darnell to be true is that color people time wasn’t in his dictionary. For a while he didn’t notice me walking towards the gym, but when he did, he didn’t care about how anyone felt about him staring at me. I looked everywhere but him, not wanting to even look at his feet. I kept my distance from him even when I got to the gym door. It was no secret that he had something to tell me.

“I thought you were bullshitting.” I looked up to se no other than him.

“Nah, I’m a girl of my word.” I looked back down, not wanting to make eye contact. We were on silent mode for a while. He was looking around while my eyes were on the ground. Thought he was done talking, and ready to leave, but he couldn’t have been that simple.

“You know… I honestly wanna ask you something else,” he finally said. He spoke much lower.

“What?” He let out a breath of air. The whole time I had been ignoring his smell until he let out that breath. It was the same smell I washed away from my sheets. Why did I make myself wash my sheets? They were lonely now.

“How long did you… well… go both ways?” How long did you care? I wanted to ask, but not in a smart way. I wanted to ask with all seriousness.

“Since I was thirteen.”

“Oh. Why don’t you tell somebody?”

“‘Cause I don’t want a lot of people to know.”

“Why?”

“My mom doesn’t even know.”

“Oh.” He looked around again, probably getting ready to ask another personal question.”

“You’re friends with Amara, right?” I looked up completely.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Does she know?”

“No.”

“I think you should tell her.”

“But why? She’s straight.”

“I still think you should. I know that ya’ll are close friends.”

“Sasha’s my second close friend.” He chuckled.

“You don’t have to defend Sasha in-front of me.”

“Okay. But me and Amara are just friends.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tell her. How can you be close friends wit’ her if you don’t tell her somethin’ like that?” I sighed. He looked away and something caught his attention.

“Can’t believe that dude is tryin’ out again after he didn’t make da first cut las’ year. The nigga ain’t got no shot.” I looked at who he was talking about and chuckled. Just by the looks of the guy, I could tell he was vertically challenged because his legs couldn’t handle his tall height. He was the typical awkward tall guy.

“Gotta give it to him though, he got heart.”

Some time of waiting and I could already spot out the cliques and competition I would have to go up against. There was a section of the first timers. Those were the girls who were freshman; girly girls; people who were trying out for fun; people who were easy cuts; and people who were convinced to play. There were the balers. Those were the girls that dressed like dudes; the people who talked to the girls that dressed like dudes; the loners that had so much confidence they almost looked cocky; and the tall people who would make it just because of their height. Then there were people like me. We were the first timers that decided to play who had some ounce of skills and was confident enough to put it on the line.

The whole gym hallway was so crowed with basketball players that the other sports had no room so we moved into the gym. A lot of them were loud and rowdy (mainly the first timers talking about their nerves or the girls and boys that took on male mentalities being boastful about their skills) while others had quiet confidence or quiet jitters. I had quiet confidence working for me.

In the gym the people who didn’t have physicals on file were asked to either give their physicals or sit out until they provided one. After that we were split up by gender and spoken to about the rules and guidelines of basketball. Then we were handed all these damn papers like it was the first day of school then told to dress out.

There were so many girls in the locker room that it was hard for me to isolate myself. I decided to stand with the first timers, because I was one. The girls who were on the team before were on the other side yelling and joking about the season before. Deep down I knew people wanted to make it clear of their assumed guarantee of making the team and what position they were expected to play. People on my side asked questions like “have you ever played” or “Are you good?” and anytime they’d ask me I’d say “no” or “I’m okay”. But I didn’t give details. I just wanted to get it over with.

We started out tryouts with a number on a note card that was safety pinned to our shirt. My number was thirty four. There had to have been fifty plus girls there and after seeing the numbers and height, I finally got a little nervous. However, after doing our warm up laps and stretching, we did lay-ups and the skills of some just weren’t there. All I worried about was what I was doing. I hit all of my lay-ups and close distance jump shots so I felt more confident. Then we got into the basket weaving drill, a whole bunch of passing drills then finally we simulated a basketball game. I had some dribbling skills and I wasn’t afraid to showcase them. I took the ball down a lot of times and after a while, people who knew dribbling wasn’t their forte passed the ball to me. One of the returning players tried to steal the ball from me but what they didn’t know was that my left hand worked just as well as my right. Had her looking stupid when I passed her and passed the ball to someone open that went up for the shot and made it.

“Okay, freshman think she got skills,” she said.

“See, you dumb for dat. She ain’t even a freshman. I seen her befo’ las’ year,” someone else said. I said nothing but smirked. They went on playing. But the girl I passed kept her eyes on me. Guess I was her new competition, especially since I wasn’t a freshman.

After tryouts were over, the coach announced there would be two more days of tryouts and on the second say there would be cuts. But I was confident about my performance.

The boy’s tryouts ended around the same time as ours did. But there were so many niggas walking out of the locker room that Darnell’s face was hard to come by. So I walked along. It was five twenty so my mama wouldn’t come until ten minutes later. I waited at the front of the school for her and watched as the sun set. People around me were talking but their words didn’t matter to me. I began thinking about my unorganized poem.



Someone stood next to me; no other than Darnell.

“How do you think you did?” he asked.

“Feel like I’ma make the team. What about you?” He breathed out a laugh.

“I didn’t really tryout. Coach had me passing out balls and shit.”

“Das a good sign, right?”

“I guess.”

“Well Sasha tol’ me you had a guaranteed spot.”

“Of course she did.”

“She talks about you a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.” We were silent for a while. The smell of his slight must and natural smell only made me want to move closer to him. I wanted to crawl into his tallness and let his blackness cover me.

“How’d you know me an’ Amara were friends?” He smirked.

“Sasha tol’ me. And me and Amara talk sometimes.”

“What’s she like?”

“She cool. She’s smart both book and street smart, ya’know.”

“You think she’s attractive?” I couldn’t help but blush, then smirk. He chuckled.

“You do, don’t you?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“You like her?”

“No, not like that. She’s a really good friend though.” Again there was that silence. Then I asked: “How’d you and Sasha become friends?”

“We’ve known each other since like, the cradle.”

“Aw, that’s cute.” He smiled, shacking his head.

“I used to act like I hated her, ya’know, boy girl cootie thing. But I always had a crush on her. Den I found out she was gay, but dat was okay. She wouldn’t want me anyway. I’m kinda fucked up in ways. Can’t have her either. I mean, she’s my friend but she can be… ya’know… I hate to say it.”

“I understand.”

“But yeah.” My mom’s car pulled up to the front of the school.

“My ride’s here. I see you tomorrow,” I said.

“Aight. Peace Shade.”

“Bye.” I rushed through the uprising coldness and jumped in my mom’s car. It was refreshingly warm and she had Jill Scott playing softly on the stereo.

“How’d you do today?” she asked.

“I did well. I think I might make it.”

“That’s good.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Steak and potatoes,” she said in a “that’s your favorite” tone. “And green beans.”

“Fresh?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. You actually love me?”

“Stop playing, you know I do.” I smiled slightly and tuned into Jill Scott’s words.



As soon as I got home I popped my food in the microwave and took off my shoes. Jim wasn’t in sight so I felt more relaxed. My mama started washing the dishes while Ebony and Trae played make believe in the family room. This was the way things were before and I missed that. My mama started humming a song she commonly hummed when she washed the dishes. I chewed slowly on my tender steak so I could hear the song.

“I could never write songs like yo’ daddy.” I stopped chewing for a little bit. It was rare that my mother spoke about my dad. “He would walk around with a pen and notpad just like you, and did crazy things fo’ inspiration like you. An’ when I found out you could sing like him, I said God has blessed me. God has done me well.” My eyes began to water, but no tears would fall. After I finished eating, I stood up and kissed her on the cheek. No words were shared as I made my way to my room.

My quick shower was refreshing but let thoughts flood my mind. As I lied in my bed, I thought of Darnell’s talking to me. To be honest with myself, it was nice talking to Darnell. He was easy to talk to without making a scene or judging. I tried to remember his smell but it was gone from my sheets. I could faintly smell it from a memory. His lovely smell.

Amara looked even more beautiful that day for some reason. Her face seemed clearer and she wore a little makeup. She had on black eye liner and gold eye shadow that brought out her brown eyes. Her lips were also a little reader, kissable almost. If I were a guy…

I smiled when I sat at the table with her.

“Who you tryna impress today?” I asked. She giggled.

“Nobody. Jus’ like wearing’ makeup some days.”

“Oh well, it looks nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey um… you never tol’ me you started talking to Darnell.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m sorry. He is just easy to talk to sometimes. Well, he is really nice and um how American’s say chill.”

“Yeah, I talked to him a lil’ bit yesterday. He asked if we were friends and that ya’ll talk sometimes.”

“What he say about me?”

“He said you were smart and nice.”

“Oh.” She smiled, looking down. Then out of no where I felt someone tap my back. I turned around only to meet eyes with Lorraine’s ugly ass. She started laughing, looking at Amara.

“You hangin’ wit’ dat ugly tar bitch?” She boomed with laughter. When I saw the look in Amara’s face, a flame sparked in me. She had been the child in the middle of the circle being harassed by teases. Her face trying to stay strong but her eyes showing the pain. “I mean, Jada tol’ me you was but I ain’t believe it. I knew you was crazy but not dat crazy.” Fuck a flame. It was an all out forest fire burning everything inside, ready to spread out.

“Ain’t nobody ugly ova here but yo’ ugly fat ass, bitch,” I almost yelled, trying desperately to hold my temper. “Fucking Shrek, Godzilla looking bitch. Now get da fuck outa here wit’ yo’ ugly, fat cellulite, liposuction needing, no hair having ass.”

“No hair? Dat bitch ain’t got no hair!”

“At least she can rock no hair. Bitch, you can’t even rock yo’ nasty ass fat accumulating in yo’ body. Get the fuck outa here fo’ I lose it.” People were “oh”ing and “ah”ing but I didn’t care. I was irate and I knew she could feel the heat.

“I came ova here to make peace, but fuck that shit now.” I stood up and got in her face.

“I don’t wanna make peace wit’ you. You ugly, bitch,” I said where only she could hear it. People were beginning to realize that there was confrontation between us. “Back the fuck up.” She had fear in her eyes. She’d seen me get in a fight before and she didn’t want to end up like that girl. Jada came out of nowhere and dragged Lorraine away. She willingly went away, not wanting to get fucked up. People went away upset that nothing popped off. I was happy and upset about it because I wanted Lorraine’s blood on my hands, but I wasn’t trying to get in trouble for it.

Amara didn’t look as upset as she did when I glanced at her, but it was still there. I sat down with my knee bouncing like crazy and my hands shacking, trying to calm down. I took deep breaths before I spoke.

“I’m sorry about dat Amara, I am.”

“It’s okay,” she said sounding hurt.

“No really, I am. You’re not ugly at all either. She’s just mad ‘cause she hate everything ‘bout herself. She knows you pretty so she talk shit about you.” She smiled for a second, which was what I wanted.

“Okay… Are you okay?” I sighed, my eyes moving around.

“I will be. Shit, I fuckin’ hate that bitch. I should go over there an’…” I wiped the tears out of my eyes. “I have anger management problems. Sometimes it gets really bad and right now it’s getting really bad.”

“Come on, come with me.” She stood up and waited for me to walk around the table. We walked to a part of a hallway where not many people went. We were alone and as soon as we got there, I wanted to grab her and hold her, tell her she wasn’t ugly at all and that she was beautiful. I wanted to hold her tight and tell her she was beautiful so much that she would believe it without doubt. To the point where she would tell everyone she was beautiful and they would think she was conceited but I wouldn’t care because I would want everyone to know. She was beautiful. From the core to the crust, she was. Miraculous. She was so much that Lorraine felt so inferior to where she had to tease Amara so she could feel better about herself. But Lorraine was nothing compared to Amara. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Amara was everything.

“Just rant, say whatever you want. Whatever it takes to calm you down,” she said. And I did. I told her about how much I hated Lorraine and Jada and how they were never really good friends to begin with. I told her that I only became friends with them because I didn’t really have any other real friends because in middle school, people didn’t really want to be my friend because my eyes were different colored and I was weird sometimes. I even cried, but she listened to everything I had to say. By the time the bell rang, I felt much better, but I was still upset.

In first period, Sasha quickly picked up on my mood. Before then, it took her some time to figure out when I was upset, but she did then. I sat in my seat not yielding my weight and carelessly dropped my bag on the floor.

“What’s up girl, what’s da matta wit’ you?”

“Dat crazy bitch Lorraine, das who.”

“What she do?”

“She was talkin’ shit about Amara.”

“Dat was all you was mad about?” Her tone made it obvious that she felt slightly envious. I sighed.

“It’s not like dat. I jus’ hate how Lorraine talk shit ‘bout ereybody. You don’t understand, it’s nonstop. Bitch always shit talkin’ ‘bout somebody. I wanna kill da bitch like iunno what.”

“Want me to handle her fo’ you? I’d do it fo’ real.”

“Nah, she ain’t worth it. But she make me so mad.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I don’t need nobody else handling my business.”

“Aight.” The teacher started passing out progress reports. Mine was a ninety four A. Sasha didn’t even look at her report. That was the first sign of apathy.

“What you get?” I asked.

“Girl, I don’t even have to look. I know it’s an F. What you got?”

“An A.”

“Damn, you make me feel dumb.”

“I have to make good grades. Kinda want to too.”

“Oh well, my moms don’t give a shit.”

“What other grades do you have?”

“Well, I got an F in here, I got an F in US history, a D in art I and an F in small business and entrepreneurship.”

“Damn, and none of yo’ mamas care?”

“Nah. They don’t even ask ‘bout my grades half da time. What ‘bout you?”

“I got all A’s.”

“Damn, guess I’m da only dumb one ‘cause I know Amara got all A’s. Darnell do too.”

“You not dumb. Thought I told you dat.”

“Well… whatever. I don’t really care either way.” Of course you don’t, I thought. I wasn’t in the mood for work so I put my head down, still calming my nerves. And doing so, I began plotting how I would finally put a stop to Lorraine’s mouth. I knew Lorraine, she was persistent. She knew where we sat in the morning; she could easily begin riding the bus again; she knew how to push me to complete anger. Why did she have to attack Amara like that? Right in-front of her face too. I sat up and whipped out my journal. My hand flew across the paper and I didn’t even know what I was writing. My writing could barely be read. It was off the lines and going up and down hill. Sasha peeped my frantic writing.

“She really pissed you da fuck off, didn’t she?” I didn’t answer. My hand was full speed. Hate. Hate. Hate. Those were the only words I recalled writing. It wasn’t even a poem either, it was like a confession of thoughts and true feelings.

By second period I was a lot calmer but I was still on edge. Zack was back from his suspension or self vacation and wasting space in class. I wasn’t wearing anything attractive but I had an ass that was hard for ghetto black niggas to resist. Then to add to it, I had thick thighs (pant size eleven) and D cup breasts. Zack already had a glance at it so no matter what I wore from that point, he always saw “Shade the freak” and her body. Plus it would be hard for him to see anything else. It was like his brain was wired a certain way. A self paralyzing way that didn’t receive certain things. Anything foreign to his brain wiring would come off as an insult that would set off alarms in his brain. Then his body would go into defense mode, then attack mode. The outside world would think he had a malfunction, and separate him from others because he was broken beyond repair. The sad part was that it was built into him. It was the tricks he learned and knew. He knew no other. But he wasn’t one of a kind. No, he was one of multiple and he spread like a disease. A mad scientist creation to cripple the ghettos. A pure organic nigga. There was no denying his existence.

So one of his eyes took to one of my ass cheeks and the other to the adjacent ass cheek. He couldn’t look at me, he saw the other part. My ass, my thighs, my breasts. He had nothing real to say. His focus was on one goal. If I had went cold turkey I might have slipped up. Instead, he was over my head. Just an annoying fly buzzing around. Wanted to swat it but had nothing to swat it with. Just buzzing, coming and going, didn’t matter.

In third period Monroe was a lot calmer. He didn’t have any of his focus on Molly although I could tell it was hard for him to keep it off of her. Over again his eyes taunted him, trying to see the look of her face, but his mind stopped him. His hands gripped the legs of the desk and squeezed. The palms of his hands would turn raspberry red, then he would release. I was busy working on a paper but his anger stole some of my attention. It was hard to believe that someone like him would hold such a grudge but I could understand. When you poured your heart out, just to get abandonment and the cold shoulder, it was painful. Life changing.

It took him a while, but he finally decided to do his work. Our assignment was to write about a selection we read about the science of time. I was writing about different dimensions and how there could be the possibility that every possible outcome in life was real and carried out in different wormholes. Some crazy shit like that. I think Monroe was just writing to write. I kind of wanted to make conversation with him because I felt for him.

“What you writing about, Monroe?” I finally said. He looked up for a split second then answered.

“Time travel and how it could work but inhumanely impossible. But that going back in time is almost impossible which fuckin’ blows.”

“You’re gettin’ personally wit’ it?”

“I’ll try not to.” I nodded my head and went back to work. It seemed as though I had fully broken his concentration because he didn’t return to his work. Instead he stared at me writing. It didn’t bother me and after a while, it slipped my mind.

Amaya waited just for me to get in class. She had her good camera, an expensive one too. It was a Canon Powershot and not something someone would want to carry around all day because of how bulky it was. She smiled with glee when I walked in the classroom.

“I already asked the teacher if we can go outside and take a picture,” she said. I rolled my eyes then smirked.

“Okay.” We went outside. It was chilly, about sixty degrees but it was bearable. I followed Amaya under a tree then she told me where to stand. She took some steps back and counted down. Then she snapped the shot. She looked at it with a snarl on her face.

“No no, this is no good. You look depressed,” she exclaimed.

“Lemme see it.” The first thing I noticed was my eyes. The sun happened to hit only my grey eye, making that eye look almost white with a black spot in the middle. My lips curved down at the corners, helping my depressed look.

“Ew,” I said under my breath. “Look at my eye.” She laughed.

“I like how gray your eye is.”

“I don’t. Looks creepy. Lemme try again.” That time I made sure the light was in my brown eye instead. She started counting down from three, but shook her head.

“No, Shade, you look so sad.”

“Dis how I always look.”

“Yeah but… it’s almost depressing. Think of something that makes you happy. What makes you happy?” I shrugged. “A boyfriend? Ohh, that made it worse. Okay how about your favorite food. Wow, that did nothing. How about… sex? Ouch, even worse. How about a close friend?” She gasped. “Hold that.” Then she took a picture. “What about sex with that friend? Ohh!” She took another picture. “You must like this friend.” Another picture. “Is he cute?” She didn’t take another picture. Instead she looked at me quizzically. “Uh… is she cute?”

“Why you ask dat?” I asked, getting nervous. She giggled.

“I saw it in your face when I asked is he cute. Are you a lesbian?” She asked almost childlike.

“No. Now take my picture.”

“You look mad right now. But it’s okay, you can tell me. Are you bi?” I smiled so she would shut up and take my picture. “That looks so forced and fake. And you can tell me Shade, I don’t care. My close cousin is bi and her sister is gay.”

“She dark skinned and she has no hair,” I answered. I wanted to see her reaction to my description. She stayed indifferent.

“Like shaved hair?”

“Yeah, and she’s African. She has designs cut in her hair.”

“Is she pretty?” She took a picture.

“I think she is.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” She blushed. I smirked, looking away.

“I never told you I was bi.”

“Well, if you were bi, would you date me?” I smiled. She took a picture.

“No.”

“Why, ‘cause I’m not pretty? What if I was lighter, then would I be prettier?”

“No. Dat won’t make any difference at all whatsoever. I wouldn’t date you ‘cause you’re brainwashed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s change the conversation.”

“Okay. So about you and guys.” She took a picture.

“What makes you think I don’t like guys?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re implying it.”

“Tell me about a cute guy then.” I smirked.

“Has dark skin…” She took a picture.

“You must love dark skin.”

“I do. He’s tall, about six three, and has dark eyes. And…” The imagery became too real for words. How could I explain the look in his eyes when he read me without words then looked away, listening to my thoughts and making peace with them? How could I describe the sheer compassion that emitted from his body without a word, but just the feeling of it warming the air? She took a picture.

“He’s just great.” She smiled.

“Aw, you must like ‘im.”

“No. I don’t like either of them. They’re just good people.”

“I see. So, how many people have you had sex with?” I looked down, without lowering my head. She took a picture. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“What about you?” She laughed uneasily.

“Nobody.”

“Don’t be ashamed of you’re virginity. You have less problems as a virgin.”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed. It’s just that so many people have sex at our age that it kinda makes me feel like an outcast.” I sighed.

“Wish I can say the same. When I lost mine, I tried to hide it. I felt like the outcast.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t right. Taboo, almost.”

“How old were you?” She took a picture.

“Young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the sorry one. If I could just take one thing back…” I loved once, but never again.

“Well… I think I’m done.”

“You should be. You took ‘bout a hundred pictures.” She giggled. She was always so tickled. We started making our ways back to the school.

“So I got an idea after you described that girl you like—”

“I don’t like her—”

“That I should paint maybe six of your faces based on your conversation with me. All six will different expressions like when you were remembering something sad, remembering something happy, something that made you angry. Yeah, you get the picture. Then I’ma call it ‘The Epitome of Shade’.”

“Oh, that’s a really good idea,” I said impressed. “What do you want to do for a living?”

“I don’t know. Art therapy maybe. Took psychology and everything. Most of the art classes and other things. What about you?”

“I like writing.” I opened the door to the classroom.

“I’ve noticed. You wanna be an author?”

“Maybe. But I only do poetry. I like to sing too.” She let out a small whistle sound. “The music industry is some tricky business.”

“Yeah, I know. Most I’ve done was recording shit on my crappy computer. It’s horrible quality, choppy as hell.”

“Well, you’re at least doing something.” We sat at the table. She began reviewing the pictures. She smiled at most of them.

“Look at this one.” She handed me the camera. I had a slight smile on my face and it looked as though I was looking beyond the lens. I knew what it was. I was reminiscing, remembering a beautiful face and beautiful presence; indescribable looks on their face. And my brown eye looked like amber in the sun, while my grey eye looked like a storm cloud. No matter what I did my eyes looked creepy, but something was beautiful about them in that picture.

“Use that picture,” I demanded.

“Oh believe me, I will.” She let me look through the other pictures. I got to the one where I thought about me loving once. My finger hovered over to the delete button.

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped.

“Why da hell are you going to keep dat one if it looks more depressing than the first picture of me.”

“Because, that picture is like raw feelings you felt about an ugly memory. But dat first picture, you said you always look like that. It’s too much pain. It’ll make anyone depressed.”

“Do I always look depressed?”

“Well…” I took that as a yes. “You look like you have a story to tell, how ‘bout dat.”

“Yeah, ‘bout a hundred and one.”

“Any you want to share?” I laughed comically, giving her camera back.

“Nope.”

“Okay. One day you might tell me.”

“Wishful thinking.”

“Alright. I’ma see if the teacher will let me use her mac.” She got up and left with her camera. If she wasn’t so brainwashed, she wouldn’t be so bad to be friends with.

That day going to basketball tryouts was easier. I actually wanted to talk to Darnell. It was something about him that made me want to talk to him. Again he was early, the gym not yet open. And again he watched as I walked down the hallway. Didn’t try to keep my distance from him either. Gave him a smile as I walked up to him. He slightly smiled back.

“Hey Darnell,” I started to say. “What’s up?”

“I’m good. I like that you’re being cordial wit’ me now. I mean, it’s hard wit’ you.” I smirked, looking down. “Amara told me that you were upset dis mornin’. Said you was fuming. She was worried ‘bout you.” I chuckled.

“She was? Dat’s sweet. Wish I could text her but my service is horrible here. But it seems like she actually talks to you like a friend.”

“Yeah, she kinda does.”

“Dat’s ‘cause you’re easy to talk to.” He smiled warmly.

“Yeah. She’s easy to talk to too. But I don’t tell her much dat’s really personal.”

“Other than Sasha, who do you tell? You don’t tell nobody nothin’.”

“Sounds like somebody you know?” I looked down, putting my hand in my back pockets.

“She ever tell you anything personal?”

“Some things.”

“Like what?” He breathed a laugh.

“You’re supposed to ask her.”

“Damn, she opened up to you fast. Thought I was special.”

“No, that’s because I introduced myself to her.”

“Why?”

“I mean look at her. She’s… she’s…”

“Miraculous.”

“Yeah.”

“Beautiful…” the word trailed off. I never admitted it aloud.

“Yes. You’re getting close to her fast.” I nodded.

“I am. I need someone to talk to. If I’m goin’ to…” I felt I was getting too person so I stopped talking.

“I tell Sasha practically everything, all my problems and whatnot ‘cause it helps me feel better and to better myself. To realize things about myself.”

“Yeah, dat’s what I need her for. She makes it so easy.” He looked up, staring off into the distance. He almost looked troubled.

“What?” He shook his head. We were silent from that point on.

Tryouts started to feel like practice to me. I did my best, but I didn’t have to try hard if that makes sense. Then there were the people that tried as hard as they could, but their efforts were pointless. They didn’t catch the coaches eyes at all and I could tell the handful that would be cut.

“Thirty four,” the coach called. I walked up to her. “What’s your name?”

“Shade.”

“Interesting name. Can I talk to you after tryouts?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Just meet me in the coaches office.”

“Okay.” I went along with tryouts. The girl I passed the day before who thought I was a freshman noticed the coach talk to me. She had less of a competitive face on and more of a concealed anger face. It only made me wonder what position she played. From what I heard in the locker room, she was point.

Tryouts ended with pep talk and announcement of the first cuts showing tomorrow. My mind was focused on my talk with the coach. As I was getting dressed in the locker room, the girl who clearly had a problem with me walked up to me.

“What up, brah?” she said. I didn’t turn around.

“Uh huh,” I replied.

“What was coach talkin’ to you about?” I wanted to say that it was none of her business, but I didn’t like bad blood between people.

“Nothin’. She jus’ wanna talk to me,” I answered.

“You ever play befo’?” I didn’t want to talk to her.

“Just in middle school. Aight, I gotta talk to her right quick and be out. Bye,” I said tossing my bag over my shoulder. She was hesitant, but she eventually said bye.

In the coaches office, the basketball coach was on the phone when I got there. I sat on the fold up chair she had out for me near her desk and waited. I wished she had hurried her conversation because truthfully, I wanted to talk to Darnell. She finally ended the phone conversation then turned to me.

“Okay miss Shade, I’ma make this quick so you can be on your way. I really want you on the team because unfortunately, a decent point guard is what we lack. Our point is sometimes lazy and she can’t make the grade. She has too many turnovers and too much mouth. You have excellent grades, you have quiet confidence and you have some ball handling skills. So what I’m gonna do is give you this information to this dribbling coach I know because I want to better you before I play you. The reason I’m telling you this now is because she’s only available for one week starting tomorrow at four thirty. So, don’t worry ‘bout coming in to tryouts tomorrow. I’ll go off of these two days.” She gave a smile that told me I was practically on the team. “Oh and, don’t tell anyone about this conversation we had. I don’t want to stir up any trouble.” She handed me the paper with the woman’s information on it. I smirked and walked out of her office. I folded up the paper and stuck it in my book bag pocket. I walked with haste down the hallway not wanting to miss Darnell before my mama came. It was five-twenty-five when I got to the front and I hadn’t missed him. But when I got there, he was talking to his male friends. It was okay that I didn’t get to talk to him. I was satisfied with just seeing him. He was facing my direction when he spotted me. He looked at me with his always warm eyes. His friends were talking amongst themselves, paying him no mind. After a while of his attention, I smiled. He slightly smiled back, but the smile was more in his eyes. That’s when my mom pulled up to the school.

“So we set a day,” my mama said as we pulled off.

“Fo’ whaat?”

“When me an’ Jim get married.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “We gettin’ married on the sixteenth.”

“What?” I almost yelled. I regained my composure. “That’s in two weeks.”

“We wanna get dis over wit’.”

“Mama, you don’t wanna marry Jim. He’s a bad person.”

“Why is he so bad Shade? You tell me this all the time.” She raised her voice at me. How could I just out right tell her without her slapping me and calling me a liar? Besides, I was afraid to tell her. “Why is he bad Shade, huh?” I never told her how awful some of her boyfriends or ex-husbands were. The only decent one was Ebony’s dad but he ran away trying to keep his pockets in tact. He paid child support for a good two years before it abruptly stopped. “You still can’t tell me what’s wrong wit’ Jim…?” she shook her head.

“Why the hell do you want to marry him anyway? Do you even know him? What is one thing you can tell me about him?” She said nothing. Her eyes were glued to the road. “You jus’ want dat pitiful paycheck. If it’s gonna be like dat, I don’t want no part of dat money.”

“Well you livin’ in it—”

“If I could leave, I would.” I said raising my voice. “But we both know you won’t let dat happen.” She sighed.

“Why you gotta say something’ like dat?” Her voice sounded a little hurt but I didn’t care. No response came out of me. From that point I wanted to talk to Amara. I sent her a quick text message saying: ‘When I get home, can I come ova to ur house? Sorry its late.’ It took her a few minutes but she replied back saying: ‘No it is ok. U can come over.’ I replied with: ‘Cool, thanks.’

When I got home, I wasted no time in taking a quick shower, eating and heading out. Of course my mama had to stop me.

“Shade, where you goin’? It’s dark outside.”

“I’m going to Amara’s house.”

“You just gonna show up?”

“Nah. I asked her. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Well, when am I gonna meet this Amara?” I glanced at Jim who was eating in the family room.

“I’d give it two weeks.” I smiled slightly and left.

Outside had a certain eeriness about it that was hard to shake. The air weighed heavy and the only sounds I could hear where those wind chimes and someone hacking up a lung. The street light I was about to walk under was struggling to stay on, making me think twice about walking under it. It was also very cold, bone chilling. My pace picked up although I was in Amara’s driveway.

At that point she had been dressed down to her casual “at home” clothes. Only, that sparked more fire in me. She had on a striped tank top that was fitted, especially on her breasts. But I could see her nipples slightly poking. She couldn’t have been wearing a bra, I told myself. And she had on a very short skirt that didn’t take much moving to show too much. I tried not to look, I did. I stayed strong.

She kindly invited me in and offered me something to drink. Then we headed up to her room where she closed the door like we were about to have a secret sharing session.

“I miss you coming here, Shade,” she said. I laughed.

“It’s only been two days.”

“Well, whatever. So… I know there is a problem.”

“That nigga Jim. My mama said she was gonna marry dat fool in two weeks.” She flopped on the bed next to where I was sitting in excitement.

“Come on Shade, you gotta tell yo’ mama!”

“I know but every time I think to, I know I can’t ‘cause she won’t believe me. I have to let her know some otha way.” I stood up and slowly started walking towards her window. “I’ve never told her about a rotten step dad, especially something like this.” I looked out her window at the same spot I once stood, looking at Amara’s nude silhouette. “After her second baby daddy, my younger brother’s dad…” I blinked and sighed, keeping from remembering. “She’s desperate to keep this one.” I turned to look at her. She was staring at me, taking in everything I was saying. I walked back to her. “So I can’t just tell her alone. I have to figure out what to do.”

“Okay, I understand.” Then she smiled sweetly, showing her starch teeth. “I’m so happy that you are finally opening up to me.” I smiled.

“It’s easy to. Speaking of…” I looked at her slyly. “I see you been opening up to Darnell a lot more.” She blushed. “You like ‘im?”

“I mean, he’s cute.”

“Wait, what’s that?” I asked comically. “Do I see lust in your eyes?”

“Stop it.” She pushed me playfully. She had more strength than I thought. “It is just hard for me to over look what you said about him and sex. And he’s cute.” She looked up as if imagining him having sex with her. “Then to top it off, he has a really good personality. I do not know what to do, I do not know him enough. I mean, no one can be that perfect.”

“Well…” she waited for me to say more. When she realized I wasn’t she asked:

“What, well what?”

“Well according to Sasha his fuck-o-meter is high.”

“Oh, I figured as much I mean, look at him.”

“He think you’re interesting though.” She blushed. “He said you were beautiful and miraculous.” She laughed.

“He said that?”

“Well… technically.”

“Doesn’t matter either way.”

“Ooh, I think you like him.”

“No, you like him!” Then she suddenly started tickling me. It had been years since someone attempted to tickle me. At first I tried to control my laughter but after a while my laughter got louder.

“Amara stop!” I begged. “I’m ‘bout to die.” She laughed then finally stopped.

“Okay, I can’t lie,” I started to say after calming my laughing down. “I think I might be catching slight feelings for him.” She giggled.

“See.”

“But what if we both end up liking him?”

“Well… in my culture a man can marry more than one wife so it is not that weird to me.”

“But it doesn’t work like dat in American culture.”

“Well… would you ever consider it?” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I might. I don’t know.”

“Speaking of, since Sasha and Darnell are such good friends, why do they not date?” I froze up a little. I wouldn’t know how to tell her this.

“He’s not her type.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

“But by the way she talks about him, you’d think she loves him.” I sighed.

“She doesn’t like… Sasha’s…” I sighed.

“Is she gay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Damn yeah, how’d you know?”

“Well, Darnell kinda hinted it one time. I just figured that was what it was.”

“Well… do you think differently about her?” she laughed.

“Oh no. I have no room to judge.”

“Neither do I.” After her saying that I was more pressured to tell her that I liked boys and girls, but I didn’t feel it was necessary. Instead we just talked casually about life and little things that made us laugh. She was so wonderful that it ate me that she was straight. She was like that missing void in me that still needed filling, but her in my life was adding to it. It might have sounded crazy, but it was true. She was as genuine as she said she was.